Ethan's Revenge
by Rude's Mom
Summary: Revenge is a dish best served cold and Ethan will spend decades to get his revenge on the Watchers Council. Crossover with Stargate. SLASH


Title: Ethan's Revenge

Author: Rude's Mom

Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy, MGM, Geeko, et al own the universes and characters. As usual, I'm just playing with them.

Warning: Slash but nothing graphic.

* * *

**London, 1975**

Two men faced off in the bedroom of a small flat in an unfashionable neighborhood. The elder, a tall, thin, almost-boy with bleached blond hair, was packing his meager belongings. His darker haired companion tried to dissuade him.

"Ripper, you can't be serious," Ethan Rayne was worried. He hadn't realized that his sometime lover had been so badly affected by Randall's death. Yes, it was a shame that their friend was killed by Eyghon but still, he could not believe that Ripper was ready to meekly return to Oxford like a chastened puppy.

"I assure you that I am quite serious Ethan," the young man grabbed the last of his clothing from the dresser and placed in in his rucksack, "and the name is Rupert

"You said it yourself that they were a bunch of stodgy old fools. Anyway, they won't take you back you know."

Rupert shook his head. "Quinton stopped by earlier today, the Council is willing to give me a second chance Ethan. I'm taking it."

"And you believed him?" The future chaos mage was incredulous. "The only reason they _might_ consider letting you back into their hallowed halls is your father and you despise the man. Hell, he's the reason you bolted in the first place, remember? Rebelling against your destiny?"

"Whether or not my father has intervened on my behalf is immaterial."

Ethan didn't miss Ripper's reverting to the speech patterns of his youth. His body language was shifting as well. There was very little of the sexy swagger that had attracted Ethan. He was losing him.

"You will spend the rest of your life encased in tweed and surrounded by dusty books and the occasional talisman. You'll be bored silly in no time," Ethan predicted with a scowl. "And for what? They'll never truly trust you, certainly never give you a Potential. They'll be too afraid that we would corrupt her."

"That's why I'm leaving you. The Council will not accept me back if I still with you and becoming a Watcher is the only way to redeem myself for what happened to Randall," Rupert left the room and came back with his personal toiletries and threw them on top of his clothes.

"Don't overstate your role in our activities, Rupert. Randall was an enthusiastic participant, unlike you," Ethan said before realizing something he had missed in recent months. "You've been think about going back before this haven't you? That's why you didn't want to raise Eyghon. You were afraid that they wouldn't want you back it they found out you were raising demons."

"What we did was criminally stupid at best. They were dabblers, Ethan, even Randall. You and I knew the potential consequences of what we were doing."

"Well course we did. Have I ever suggested otherwise? But it was fun while it lasted. The high was incredible."

Rupert sighed. "The Council is willing to overlook my actions this one time since 'no innocents' died and take me back on a probationary basis. In time, I may earn back the trust that I squandered and be allowed to fully serve as a Watcher."

With that final comment, Rupert picked up his rucksack and walked out of the flat he had shared with Ethan, closing the door behind him.

Ethan stared at the door for several minutes in vain, willing Ripper, no Rupert, to return.

"Afraid I'll corrupt one their precious Potentials are they?" Ethan grinned. "Oh, I'll do much worse than that Ripper. Much, much worse. After all, what is the Council good for without a Slayer?"

**Seattle 1980**

In the years since Rupert had walked out out of his life, Ethan spent most of his time studying the dark arts. During that time, he had decided to ally himself with Janus, the god of change, of beginnings and ends. Janus, the patron of chaos. It was, after all, the perfect choice for someone with Ethan's mission. All he wanted was to end the Slayer line and with it, the reason for the Council's existance.

Ethan paused outside of an antique bookstore in a seedy part of town with his hand on the doornob. He had spent the last five months tracking down this lead. The proprietor was supposed to be one of the more learned demons and would hopefully point him in the correct direction. He turned the handle and pulled the door open.

He looked around the room, noting that in addition to books, the showroom also contained various talismans. He ignored a female sales clerk and moved towards an older man at a desk at the back of the room.

"I'm looking for Doc," he said.

"Why?" The man did not look up from his book.

"I was told that he could help me acquire something for a special project."

"Then I suggest you ask Julie. She handles all of the special orders for the store."

"My contact, a charming young lady in Prague said that I really needed to speak with with Doc."

"And the young lady's name?"

"Drusilla."

The man, or more precisely demon, raised his head. "Sweet, crazy Drusilla. How is she doing these days?"

"As insane as ever and still doting on that fool Spike," Ethan was getting slightly impatient at wasting time with pleasantries.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste," he stood up. "I'm Doc. Follow me."

The pair went into a small storeroom.

"So, what kind of project are you working on?"

"I want to destroy the Slayer line," Ethan stated.

Doc gave a bark of laughter. "You don't have enough power boy. None of us do and Hell knows its been tried. When the Slayer line was created, it was done very carefully. The Slayer dies, the next one in line is called. You can't stop it."

"What about the stopping the potentials?"

"Oh they are easier to kill, I'll give you that, but you would have to kill them all. Problem is, more are born every day and not even the Watchers Council knows who all of them are." Doc shook his head. "No, as I said, the creation of the Line was done very carefully."

"One dies, the next is called," Ethan said sourly. Well this had been a bloody waste of time. He should have known better than to trust an insane vampire.

"That's right, the Slayer dies," Doc paused. When Ethan failed to get the hint, he tried again. "If the Slayer doesn't die..."

"The next won't be called but it still leaves the Council with a damn Slayer."

A sly grin crossed Doc's face as he said, "not if they can't find her."

A matching grin appeared on Ethan's face.

"Now where could I hide a Slayer?"

"Oh, I might have an idea or two," Doc laughed. "Let me get some reference books."

**Los Angeles 1986**

It had cost him a small fortune and six years to find just the right Potential, one that truly was destined to be the Slayer. He had been surprised that most Potentials were really just potentials, second stringers held in reserve if too many Slayers fell to quickly. Doc had been right, whoever created the Slayer line had been very, very careful. Too bad the Council had never figured it out. Stupid buggers had failed to find this one which made her perfect for his purposes.

Little Buffy Anne Summers would disappear years before she was Called. Just another missing child, a cute picture on a milk carton.

He realized in many ways he was doing the child a favor. He would be sending her a place without vampires and demons. Unlike countless predecessors, she would grow up, probably marry and have children. With her enhanced healing, she'd probably live to a ripe old age leaving the Council flummoxed as to what had happened to their precious Slayer line.

Ethan double checked his supplies to make sure that everything that he would need was near at hand. The spell itself was in a form of ancient Egyptian, not Ethan's first choice but as Doc had told him, beggars can't be choosers. Using an early edition of Budge to translate it, man and demon had determined at it would work the same way as the lost Doorway to Heaven, sending the destined Slayer far beyond the reach of the Council.

Ethan used a dagger dedicated to Janus to make a shallow cut on the palm of his left hand, letting the blood drip into a small Egyptian urn stolen from a death cult leader named, appropriately enough, Seth. He began to chant...

**London 1996**

Ethan was at a local demon bar. Drinks were on the house, for one night only, as the owner celebrated the six-month anniversary death of the most recent Slayer. Rumor had it that the Council had yet to find the latest Slayer. According to several of Ethan's contacts, a Watcher named Merrick was scouring the western portion of the United States looking for any sign of the girl. Ethan chuckled at the wasted effort, the Slayer was well and truly out of the reach of the Council. It had taken just over twenty years but he finally had the full measure of his revenge.

The party was just getting into full swing when the owner went into the bar's office to answer take a telephone call. He returned a few minutes later with an announcement.

"Sorry folks, the party's over. A new Slayer has been found. She's in Jamaica."

Bloody hell, Ethan thought. How did the stupid chit manage to die so quickly? Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Maybe a repeat is in order?


End file.
